


even so

by abscission



Series: the sky is blue and I love you [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Anal Sex, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Soft Lotor (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23610304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abscission/pseuds/abscission
Summary: Lazy morning sex and declarations of (everlasting) love.
Relationships: Lance/Lotor (Voltron)
Series: the sky is blue and I love you [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1509101
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60





	even so

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hexworthy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexworthy/gifts).



> listen i know its a whump prompt but i just want some fluff in my life ok

Most mornings, Lance lies in bed holding his breath, staring at Lotor’s sleeping face, and tries not to be starstruck.

Today he has to try extra hard, because the morning sun’s rays spilling across his room sets Lotor’s pale hair ablaze with gold, and as he rolls his hips, slow and purposeful, Lotor lets out a long, low moan that sends shivers racing down his spine.

Like a cat, Lotor writhes lazily in the sheets. He reaches back a hand, gently demanding, and Lance’s heart swells at the gesture. He grasps the hand tightly with his own.

Once, he had be so careful with affection. Boundaries, with Lotor, was a tenuous thing, but he made it— _they_ made it work.

Lance braces a hand against Lotor’s back, shifts himself to an angle he knows Lotor likes, and sets an even slower pace. It’s lazy morning sex, and he wants to make this last.

Lotor’s breath stutters. “—Love,” he says, clenching and unclenching his free hand in the sheets, slightly out of breath.

 _He_ did this. Lance could almost get drunk on the swell of emotion. The hand on Lotor’s back catches on the raised ridges of old scars and—

Lotor tenses up the tiniest fraction.

Oh, no, not today. Lance isn’t letting old trauma of a salted and burned zombie emperor get in the way of his bliss.

(Lotor’s scars have always been an issue. So far, Lance has adopted a kiss-and-make-up policy. It’s worked brilliantly. Also a reason they hardly ever do it in this position; _also_ a reason he’s more determined.)

Lance bends down to brush a kiss on the back of Lotor’s neck. “Hey, it’s ok.” Lightly, he maps the scarring with his fingers. “Can I do this?”

Lotor relaxes a fraction. He doesn’t speak. Instead, he gives the hand he still holds a squeeze.

The sunlight has shifted. It slants across Lotor’s face, catching in the silver-gold strands of his hair and lighting up his eyes like amethysts. He doesn’t seem to mind the glare. There’s an unfocused quality to his gaze, and Lance isn’t going to question. Lotor will speak when he’s ready to.

For now, he simply sits back and studies the scars across Lotor’s back.

Half in shadow as they are, the faint ridges throw sharp, slanting shadows. Lance has seen what whip-scars looked like from rebel fighters, and these aren’t it. They rise and fall fractionally, criss-crossing and overlapping. If they were burn scars — which they aren’t, but it’s what Lance is familiar with — it’d be like someone pressed a heated mesh into Lotor’s back.

—he doesn’t care, Lance decides, leaning down to press a kiss at where the first line of scarring began. Wherever and however Lotor received these, it doesn’t matter now. They are a sign that he survived, that he is here to share in this golden moment, and that’s the important part.

They both survived the war. Earth survived the war, too, thanks largely in part to Lotor’s ascension to the Galra throne. He bore these scars — and numerous others that Lance will slowly catalogue with his fingers and mouth — as a sign of his triumphs.

Lance doesn’t much care what Lotor thinks he thinks of these things. Perhaps, to Lotor, Lance loves him in spite of these scars, or because of, or for these scars — what does it matter, so long as he knows Lance loves him? With all his body, mind, and soul.

Well, the morning took a fatalistic turn.

Aiming to instill some levity back into the proceedings, Lance sticks his face into the crook of Lotor’s neck and licks a stripe from shoulder to chin. As expected, it draws an undignified yelp, and Lance laughs into his hair even as Lotor untangles their fingers to shove his head away.

“What are you doing?”

“C’mon, sit up, we’re finishing this and you’re pulling your weight,” Lance tugs Lotor up. It takes some maneuvering, but soon they are facing each other, moving in sync.

Lotor is beautiful in any circumstance, but Lance loves it most when Lotor is moving on his cock, bathed in Earth’s golden sunlight, alien eyes locked with his and the slight smile on his lips.

In the hazy throes of afterwards, they lie in each other’s embrace. Lance has an arm across Lotor’s waist, and Lotor is drawing circles into his thigh.

“Lance, I…”

Lance shifts so he is closer, cozier. He hums his acknowledgement into Lotor’s shoulder. He smells of Lance’s shampoo and his family’s laundry detergent, curtesy of shirts loaned from Marco.

“I really…” The hand tightens on his thigh. Lotor tucks Lance into the hollow his curved body makes and simply breathes for a few seconds.

“It’s ok,” Lance kisses his collarbone. “I love you too. You don’t have to say it.”

He feels Lotor’s answering smile.

**Author's Note:**

> cannot believe this is my first posted smut. cheers.
> 
> :)
> 
> (edit: realized belatedly this fic doesn't exactly fit the thematic parameters of this series but h e c k whatevs)


End file.
